


lost and found

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [33]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Selfcest, Sportsfest 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 03:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15572877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: Shinsuke’s heard that when he smiles, it can be the sweetest or the most disconcerting thing. He has never understood that statement, but he thinks maybe he does now.Best handhold: a tie, impeccably worn





	lost and found

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sportsfest 2018 Bonus Round 3: Superlatives | [originally posted here](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/10320.html?thread=1821264#cmt1821264)

The lost and found in Izushi station is tucked away in a small corner, in between a dusty vending machine and a guard post that seems deserted. When Shinsuke steps in, a lamp above the doorway flickers on, blinding him for a moment with a warm hazy glow.

“Excuse me,” he calls. “I’m sorry to disturb. I left a tie on my train, and when I called they asked me to collect it from here…”

His voice trails off as the light clears, and he catches a glimpse of the boy behind the counter. He is dressed in an immaculately ironed shirt and pressed trousers, shoes that look like they have been shined just this morning.

Shinsuke looks down at his own shoes, and back up at an inquiring stare. He has never been at the receiving end of that stare, except in a mirror; it is different in real life.

“Is it this?” asks the boy, and pulls open a drawer to take out Shinsuke’s favourite tie, the silken maroon red one with the tie pin topped with a fox’s head.

“Yes,” says Shinsuke.

As he reaches for it, the boy stands up to hand it over. Their hands brush, and linger for longer than they need to. It is no accident, Shinsuke knows, for he does not do things by accident.

All the way from here, he can hear the faint drumming of the _Shinkoro_ clock tower, signalling eight o’clock. It hasn’t been functional for years. The boy’s head turns along with his, and Shinsuke can see the soft sigh on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Today, the boy behind the counter is reading a book and there’s a red jacket round his shoulders that’s the colour of ripe cherries. A tantalising whiff of fresh tea hits Shinsuke’s nose as he enters. _Earl Grey._ The lemon slice is still on the saucer, and the boy glances up to nod a cordial welcome at Shinsuke.

“It’s you. Did you lose something again?”

_My way,_ Shinsuke wants to say, and it’s funny, it’s a funny thought in his head because he would never lose his way. He has an unerring sense of direction and an excellent knowledge of local geography. But here he is, and he doesn’t know how he got here.

“Izushi doesn’t exist anymore,” is what he says instead.

The boy snaps his book closed and lays it down next to the teapot. He clasps his hands on the table, and Shinsuke looks at his thumbs. He’s always done that, pressing the ridges of his thumbs together when he’s thinking hard.

“We’re both here, though,” says the boy, after a while. “What do you think that means, Shinsuke?”

Shinsuke’s heard that when he smiles, it can be the sweetest or the most disconcerting thing. He has never understood that statement, but he thinks maybe he does now. It is a strange feeling in his chest that is not altogether unpleasant.

“I think it means I’ve missed my last train home,” he says.

“Granny always did say the deities have their plans,” says the boy, and pours a cup of tea. He slides it across the counter. Shinsuke takes it, and drinks.

 

* * *

 

The vending machine, Shinsuke discovers, does not work. He had not expected it to. At least it has the grace to refund his 100 yen coins, even if they return to him strangely tarnished, as if they have been somewhere very far away and back again.

When he goes back, the boy is standing at an old radio with his back to Shinsuke. There is a maroon tie draped round his wrist. Shinsuke’s hand goes to his throat. He hadn’t realised he’d lost his tie again.

“I’m afraid we have to make do with tea tonight,” he says.

The crackling static gives way to a Chopin nocturne, and the boy stops turning the dial, satisfied. He turns to glance over his shoulder at Shinsuke. “That suits me fine. I think it would suit you too.”

Shinsuke nods. He opens his mouth, and closes it again; he does not have anything to say, and he’s never needed words to see into someone’s head anyway. Their eyes meet, and then one of them is stepping closer and Shinsuke is not sure which one of them it is.

“It’s just me,” says the boy, his gaze piercing. “You don’t need some logical reason to explain how you feel.”

Shinsuke raises an eyebrow and laughs. “I don’t think that’s what Aran meant.”

The boy smiles. He loops the tie round Shinsuke’s collar and wraps the end of it round his hand, pulls lightly so Shinsuke’s leaning in and he can feel warm breath on his cheek.

“Aran was talking about happiness, wasn’t he?” he says, and as those deft fingers find their way up the tie, up to the impeccable knot and the hollow of his neck, Shinsuke can only close his eyes and murmur, _yes_.


End file.
